


Inner Workings

by MurderMeMaybe



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Drug Use, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Multi, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 13:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11403285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurderMeMaybe/pseuds/MurderMeMaybe
Summary: You've always been a good kid. You follow the rules, try not to be a bother, turn your homework in on time. But your fascination with blood and the macabre has led you to your new friends door, with a unique request that he may be able to assist you with.





	Inner Workings

**Author's Note:**

> This fic started out as a scene that got stuck in my head for a longer fic I'm working on, but I quickly realized it would work better on its own as a reader-insert. It may still be included in that story in some form, but for now I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Consider this a tribute to tenuous' [Fervent Care of Dying Things](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10618581/chapters/23484690) since I felt the need to write something fluffy and sweet for Lawrence because Strade is a total asshole.

You have always been a good kid. You follow the rules even when you don’t understand them, you try hard to not be a bother, you always turn your homework in on time. So when you find yourself waiting outside of Lawrence’s apartment door, you find that your hands are shaking.

You hear the click-click-clicking of Lawrence’s locks being undone, and let out a nervous breath. You are bouncing where you stand, your feet sweaty in your shoes. You should have asked Lawrence ahead of time, over the phone or on-line, but you are so afraid of being found out that you didn’t dare.

When Lawrence’s apartment door opens you smell the sweet earthy scent of flowers and fertilizer. Lawrence looks down at you, and when you see his sweet face and pale blue eyes you could almost forget why you came at all. You give him a shaky smile, your joy at seeing him tempered by raging anxiety.

“Hi Lawrence,” You say, still bouncing where you stand. “Can I come in?”

You feel stupid when you ask that. You both planned this visit days ago, but you're so nervous that you are falling back on faulty scripts. Your cheeks flush and you look away

Lawrence is staring at you. He starts when you speak and says that you can come in, his words blending together in haste. You enter quickly, striding over to his kitchen table while Lawrence resets all of his locks.

You sit down, trying to make your hands stop shaking, but your leg still bounces. When Lawrence comes over you cannot meet his eyes, and you have started twisting your sweaty hands together from nerves. He stops a little further from you than he normally does, and when you peek up at him his expression is closed off.

 _Oh no, he probably thinks you’re upset with him,_ you realize. You let out a breath and decide the simplest way to alleviate that will be to just tell him. You don’t think he’ll freak out, Lawrence understands you even better than your own parents sometimes. Even if he says no you don’t think he will be mad at you for asking.

“Lawrence, I want to ask you a favor.” You force yourself to look up at him, and see a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “Ever since I was little I’ve- well I’ve-” you struggle to find the words, shaking your head as your tongue gets stuck. Finally you say, “Okay, remember when you gave me that drink? Because I slipped on the stairs and scraped up my knee? The one that made it stop hurting?”

“Yes.” Lawrence says slowly, his gaze now full of confusion.

“I want to drink some,” You say carefully. “Because I… because I want you to help me to…” The words stick again. **_Why can’t you just say it?_ **

You hunch forward, your chest constricting and your stomach twisting with anxiety. Lawrence takes an alarmed step towards you. You’ve never been this anxious around Lawrence before, everything with him has always been so easy, but you’re so scared he won’t like the idea, that he’ll tell you he never wants to see you again-

“Do you…” Lawrence swallows, hovering over you with an uncertain look. “Do you want to write it down?”

You blink up at him, your eyes shimmering with tears. You nod, feeling relief pulse through your veins as Lawrence hurries away. He returns a moment later with a pen and pad of paper. Its surprisingly easy to write the words, even as your tongue grows large and ungainly. You finish writing out the note, and as you finally hand it to Lawrence you find your words, telling him in a whisper that if he doesn’t want to you won’t be mad.

Lawrence reads the note in silence, his eyes flickering across the page rapidly. When he looks up you cannot place his expression. He is breathing quickly. His eyes flick from the note to your face several times, then he nods. As he turns away you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Excitement flashes through you, and you cover your mouth to hold in an elated giggle.

When Lawrence returns he has a green water bottle and a freshly cleaned kitchen knife. He hands you the bottle with a gentle admonition to only take a sip, and asks where you would like to do it as you drink.

“I was thinking my upper thigh,” you say when you lower the bottle. “That way I can hide it from… from my parents. They won’t understand.”

Lawrence tenses, but then nods in agreement. You hand him the bottle, and as he sets it aside you shimmy out of your jeans. Lawrence is transfixed on your bare skin, his cheeks a soft pink.

“It… the drink should, it should be affecting you now.” He says quietly, unable to look away.

You grab a bit of skin between your thumb and forefinger, pinching as hard as you can. You feel pressure, but no pain. You nod to Lawrence and say, “It’s working. I um, I studied this a lot, so I can probably handle the knife-”

“Can I do it?” His eyes widen in horror when he realizes what he just said.

Before he can retract the words you say, “Yes! I’d love that! Do you know how?”

Lawrence nods, and kneels down in front of you. He places a hand on your knee, and you find all at once that the anxiety is gone. You watch with fascination as he lifts the knife, settling it on the upper half of your thigh.

The knife slides into your skin with deliberate slowness. Lawrence sharped it to a razor edge, but even if it had been dull you wouldn’t have felt a thing besides soft pressure. Blood wells up, and as it drips over your thigh to the floor you realize you should have asked Lawrence to put a towel down so you won’t make a mess. But his next cut distracts you, and the thought fades away.

Each slice of the knife is precise, his hand far steadier than you could have been. None of it hurts so you aren’t distracted from the vision of a flap of flesh being carefully peeled up, revealing wet muscle underneath. You tense your toes, watching the muscle moving in your leg. Your heart hammers in your ears, and you let out a soft awe filled noise.

You are enthralled. You move your leg, no longer caring about the blood which drips down your calf and across your foot. You are startled when Lawrence cups your calf, his fingers sliding through your blood.

“I…” His eyes are focused on the skin which has been tugged aside to show your muscle. “We need to stick that back down, so it heals right.” 

You nod slowly. You do not move from the seat as Lawrence goes to get supplies. You feel a flash of regret as he sews you back up. Lawrence made the incision small so you won’t be in serious risk of the flap coming up or getting an infection, but you have researched everything you will need to do so that the injury will heal with minimum fuss. Lawrence’s stitches are neat and even. 

“We should… clean you up.” Lawrence says once he's done, his eyes still fixed on your thigh. You aren’t looking there any longer, your eyes now focused on Lawrence’s handsome features. His high cheeks are flushed, making the blue of his eyes stand out even more. 

You reach forward without thinking, your fingers touching a loose strand of his pale hair. Lawrence jerks back. His eyes focus on your face with a look of bewildered disbelief. 

“Lawrence?” You say softly, warmth spreading up your neck and across your face. You’ve never felt like this before, like you could float. “Can I kiss you?” 

He stares at you like he doesn’t know what to say. He makes the tiniest up and down motion with his head, something no one would notice if they weren’t looking for it. You notice, and you close the distance between you to press a chaste kiss against his lips. 

Something in Lawrence shifts. His palm cups your cheek slick with your blood, and his thumb slides down against the pulse in your throat. You gasp, and Lawrence pushes you back into the chair, his lips moving against yours with desperation. You cannot think of anything except the feel of his palm, the taste of his mouth, something pleasant and floral, like his tea. 

He pulls back, and you open your eyes in confusion. He is standing in front of you, breathing hard, his blue eyes wide with wonder and fear. You don’t know why Lawrence is afraid, but all you can think is that you want to kiss him again, so you lurch unsteadily to your feet, the drink from before making you stumble. Lawrence catches your arms so you won’t fall, and you reach up and pull him down into another urgent kiss. You have never felt this way before, never wanted to do this with anyone, but Lawrence is different, Lawrence is special, he doesn’t make you feel strange or weird or awkward or _anything_ except understood. 

Your lips part from one another wetly, both of you struggling to catch your breath. You stare up at him, your own gaze as enthralled as his _. I’m in love,_ you think as you gaze into his beautiful eyes. _This is what love is._


End file.
